South For the Winter
by Talking to Bananas
Summary: After his two year battle with Lord Voldemort ends, Harry Potter is back a Hogwarts. As he goes through the world that the hardly remembers and reunites with the people he left behind, he wonders if he can ever go back to the life he had before. Reviews a


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Ronald Weasly, Hermione Granger or any of the wonderful characters and ideas that J.K. Rowling has written.**

**A/N: Hey guys. I'm sorry if the end seems kind of abrubt, but I was typing this and it went on for 10 pages, so I needed to break it somewhere. More to come soon if you like it!**

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Harry Potter heaved a sigh. All around him was chaos. Fires blazed in the trees of the Forbidden forest, casting eerie shadows across the clearing he was in. His vision blurring, Harry Potter let his wand drop out of his hand and collapsed to the hard ground. 

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"So, it's over?" Harry recognized the voice as Hermione Granger's. He assumed that someone had nodded because he didn't hear a response. Forcing his heavy eyelids open, he took in the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts' hospital wing. It had been two years since he had last been here. Harry found it ironic that his two year fight against Voldemort had finally lead him back to Hogwarts, the only place he ever felt at home.

Mrs. Weasly was the first to notice that he was awake. "Harry…you're awake," she whispered sympathetically.

He pushed himself up on one elbow and tried to speak. His voice came out in a raspy croak. Swallowing, he asked shakily, every word burning, "Did I…?"

Hermione took his hand, "Yes, Harry. He's gone."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his pillow. Everyone around him could sense that he wanted to be alone; he felt Hermione's hand slip from his and heard the door click behind them as they exited. He lay there for a while, letting it all sink in. He had finally done it; the war was over, and Harry had killed Voldemort. He had killed Voldemort. The thought weighed on his mind. He, Harry, had killed someone.

Was it possible? Was it true that after everything that had happened, Harry had just pointed his wand at Voldemort's heart and whispered those two horrible words that had ended everything? Voldemort had been weak, weaker than Harry had ever seen him, the long fight against Harry and his own personal limits had taken a toll on him. In those last moments before Harry had said the curse to end his life, Voldemort seemed to have given up.

He wondered if his parents had had that same look in their eyes as they had died. His parents. Voldemort had killed them; he deserved to die. It was with that thought that Harry fell into sleep.

Suddenly, he was in a field, the wind whipping his unruly black hair into his electric green eyes. Across the field, Harry could see an outcropping of stone. As she walked closer, it appeared to be the ruins of a house. The sky was gray and the wind was biting through his grey sweatshirt. He shivered, but he couldn't stop walking towards the skeleton of the house.

It was then that he saw the two people standing there. Squinting, he tried to make out their faces. Then, he realized who they were, and began to run. The faster he ran, the more the wind blew around him. He reached the house in a full sprint. There to greet him were his parents.

His mother smiled at him, her hair oddly tranquil in the still brewing storm. Her green eyes stared softly out at him, and her smile was bright. Next to her, looking like Harry's reflection, was James Potter. His arm was around Lily, and he was smiling just as much as her.

Happiness lit up Harry's eyes, and he took another step towards his parents. His mom reached out to him, love in her eyes, "Harry. We've missed you."

His father looked at her and then back at Harry, "Come back to us son."

The wind bit at his face, causing tears to well up in Harry's eyes, "I'm coming." He started walking up the stone stairs to them, trying to convince his unwilling legs to move faster.

"Hurry son." His mother urged, a slight hint of urgency in her voice. Harry continued on, his only thoughts of his parents. The steps seemed to stretch out forever in front of him; he had to get to his parents. The wind lashed against his tearstained face and he climbed faster and faster. With a pressing firmness in her voice, his mother said, "Harry, come faster."

Harry began to move even faster; his mother had begun to shout now. Everything around him was swirling about, and Harry felt like he was at the center of a terrible storm. Then, he reached the top of the staircase. The wind was at its highest intensity and he looked around desperately for his parents. He whirled around, screaming, "Mom! Dad! I'm coming!" and as everything came to its pinnacle, he woke up.

The torches in the hospital wing burned against his already tear-filled eyes. He was glad that no one was around him to see his weakness. It was the first time that he had let himself cry in the past two years. Hugging his knees into his chest, he sat motionless, lost in himself. It had all gone by so fast; he could hardly remember much of what had happened. All of the events that had past seemed to have swirled around him like the storm in his dream.

When his tears had dried, Harry sat quietly in his bed. Everything seemed so quiet, so calm. It hadn't been like this for a while, and the silence was almost unnerving. After a few minutes, the peace was broken as Madame Pomfrey burst into the room. Seeing Harry sitting up, she bustled over, "Harry, you shouldn't be sitting up. Especially after all you've been through."

Harry pushed her off weakly, "I'm fine."

"I believe that I have the last say in that." Madame Pomfrey snapped at him. She pushed him firmly back into the bed, "You have sprained ankle, cuts all over your arms, and half of you neck has burns on it. I did my best to ease the pain, but I don't want you telling me that you are fine." She applied a thick purple paste to his neck, and gave him a nasty tasting drink. Then, she walked out of the room, muttering, "Teenagers," under her breath.

When she was gone, Harry leaned back. The pain was finally getting to him. He looked over his arms and legs, inspecting the gashes and long-since healed scars. The paste on his neck was beginning to harden, and it smelled awful. Harry reached down and touched his ankle. Wincing in pain, he retracted his hand. He hadn't noticed the pain he had been in.

Finally deciding to take Madame Pomfrey's advice, Harry lay back in his bed. But he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. More than one thing about that dream had disturbed him, and he didn't want to return to it. He stared up at the ceiling coldly, his mind completely numb. He didn't want to think about anything anymore, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

It was all over. It was finally all over. He had spent so many nights picturing this moment, when it was done. Whether he had been sleeping in some gracious host's home, or on the cold ground under his invisibility cloak, he had always had the same thought. He had always kept his mind focused on getting back home. But now, he wondered, what _was _home for him?

Harry had been traveling around for so long, he couldn't remember what it was like to stay in one place anymore. The only thing that had stayed steady for him was Ron and Hermione. They had been there for him through all of his struggles; they had held him up when he was in his darkest points, his hardest times. They had grown together over the past two years, more than they ever had at Hogwarts, and Harry knew he couldn't have done it without them.

The night rolled on, and Harry still refused himself sleep. When the morning finally came, he closed his eyes just before Minerva McGonagall and a man walked into his room. They stood near his bed, talking and Harry heard every word said easily. Professor McGonagall was the first to speak, "Well, Minister. It's really over. Voldemort is dead."

"So, the boy. He killed him?" The man replied, skepticism in his voice.

McGonagall paused for a moment, sadness in her voice, "He had too."

The Minister answered, "What's going to happen to him now?"

"That's up to him. He's 18; he's not underage anymore. He can do whatever he chooses."

"So, that's it? He just goes back to his old life?" The Minister asked.

Harry heard Professor McGonagall's footsteps approaching the side of his bed. She stroked his hair for a second and then turned back to the Minister of Magic, "He's never going to be the same. He'll never go back." And with that, she and the Minister walked out of the room, the door clicking behind them.

Harry's eyes opened slowly, and he knew that she was right. He wasn't going to be the same ever again. He had known that ever since he had started out on his journey after Bill's wedding so long ago. He had always thought about what it was going to be like when the war was over, but he had never thought about what he was going to do. Where was he going to go? He couldn't stay at Hogwarts forever.

Both Ron and Hermione had homes to go back to; where could he go? Not to the Dursely's, that was for certain. Maybe he could go to the Weasly's, but that couldn't be permanent. But he pushed all thoughts of that out of his mind. Today should be a day of happiness, or celebration that it was finally over.

Harry sat up in his bed again, and searched his bedside table for his glasses. Cleaning the soot off of them, he put them on. Then, he hastily dug his hands into his pockets. He found what he was looking for and pulled it out. He was holding a golden ring in his hand. In the middle of it was a clear circle of glass, swirling with a golden mist. This ingenious invention of Hermione's had helped him through many tough spots.

Tapping the side, he whispered, "Ron, Hermione, are you there?"

He waited for a few seconds before Hermione's face swam into the glass circle, "We're here Harry. You should really be asleep though."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm fine Hermione. I just need to get out of here for a while. Can you meet me by the lake in twenty minutes?"

Hermione frowned, but obliged, "Sure Harry. See you then."

Harry put the ring back into his pocket and pulled his shoes on, flinching when he came to his left shoe. He looked feebly over at the closet where Madame Pomfrey stored the crutches. Pulling his wand out of his back pocket, he lifted his arm feebly and pointed at the closet. He mumbled, "_Accio Crutch_."

The crutch banged against the door of the closet, but it didn't move beyond that. Harry sighed; he couldn't believe that the war had left him so weak that he couldn't do a simple Accio Charm. Pushing himself off of the bed frame, Harry hobbled across the room. Limping to the closet, he awkwardly opened it. "Sneaking out…are we?" a voice hissed from near his ear. Harry looked around feverishly, his heart pounding. "Don't worry honey. It's just me."

Harry looked around until he saw a portrait on his right. The woman in it was wearing traditional nurse's robes, and she had a docile look on her face. Sighing, he said, "You won't tell Madame Pomfrey?"

"Fine, dear, but if she catches you I'll never hear the end of it," the woman sighed. Harry smiled in thanks and pulled a crutch out of the closet. As he shuffled out the door, he felt so fragile. He couldn't help thinking that if a Death Eater appeared around the corner, he would be dead in a second. Making his way through the maze of the hallways, Harry continuously checked his watch; he didn't want to be late.

Finally, he made his way through the front doors of castle. Sliding slightly on the dew covered grass, he walked through the early morning mist. Approaching the lake, he saw his two friends standing there, slightly shivering. He came up to them from behind, and said with all of the strength he could muster, "'Morning guys."

Hermione spun around and hugged him. The crutch made it awkward, but Harry appreciated it all the same. When they broke apart, Harry looked at Ron. Neither of them said anything, but they didn't need to. Each knew what the other was thinking. They stood in a circle for a few minutes, each enjoying the silence of the early morning.

Hermione broke the silence, "So, Harry…It's two in the morning. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Harry sat down on the ground, and stared out onto the lake. Hermione and Ron took their places beside him. He searched for the words, "I just needed to be with you guys. Before the celebrations, before I become famous again, I needed to spend some time alone with you before we go back to our lives."

Ron looked at Harry, understanding what he was saying, "Harry. You know that us…All three of us…We're always going to be friends. No matter what."

Harry smiled and looked across the lake; Ron had said exactly what he needed to hear. All three of them sat their in silence, watching the sun rising over the lake. Hermione laid her head on Harry's shoulder, and Ron sat in silence. Eventually, Hermione broke the stillness again, "Harry you should go back to the hospital wing. They'll be looking for you soon."

Harry nodded solemnly and stood up with help from his friends. Together, they walked back to the hospital wing and Harry bid them both a reluctant goodbye at the door. Sneaking back inside, he thought about his times with them; they had been his crutch through the whole ordeal with Voldemort. Making his way back over to his bed, he lay down, the nurse in the picture frame clucking in disapproval.

Less than a minute after he lay down, the Weasly clan burst into the room. Fred and George, both sporting bright red beards, walked jovially up to Harry, "Hey man. Long time no see."

Harry forced a smile; they hadn't changed a bit. He supposed that he would just act happy today; everyone was expecting him to. Mr. Weasly walked up, "How are you Harry?"

Harry propped himself up on one elbow, resigning himself to the fact that he would be answering questions like this all day. "I'm doing fine Mr. Weasly."

Mrs. Weasly drew closer to his bed, "Now stop pretending Harry; just look at you! You need rest, and you look like you haven't had a decent meal for two years. Promise me that as soon as you get out of here you'll come to the Burrow to get some food." But at that moment, three more people walked into the room, saving Harry from making a promise that he wasn't sure that he could keep. Squashed into the doorframe of the hospital wing was an odd looking trio.

In the forefront was a strange looking girl; Luna Lovegood. She had long brown hair to her waist and she was wearing blue glasses that accentuated her already bulbous eyes. Luna had long black robes on and her traditional radish earrings. She was just like Harry remembered her, and her appearance made him smile.

Behind her was a boy that Harry recognized as Neville Longbottom. His brown hair flopped into his eyes, and his happiness at seeing Harry was apparent on his visage. He was drowning in a pair of earth green robes, and he was wearing a badge on his robes.

In the back of the group was Ginny Weasly. Her red hair was short and cropped around her face. Her bright green eyes stared unblinkingly at him. Her blue robes showed off her slim figure, and Harry couldn't help staring at her.

As they pushed their way into his room, the rest of the Weasly's bid him goodbye and left. Neville was the first to say something, bounding up to Harry's bed joyfully. Pointing to the badge on his chest he said cheerfully, "I've got a job. I'm working in France, sorting out exotic plants. I even created a new breed. Granted, they aren't quite sure what it does yet, but it's named after me! Gran is so proud."

Harry smiled, "I knew that you would do something with Herbology." Neville beamed at Harry. He backed up a few steps, allowing Luna to walk serenely past him.

"Hello, Harry. You smell horrible," she said bluntly.

Harry smiled despite the fact that he was now self-conscious of the hardened purple paste on his neck. Sitting up in his bed, he answered, "It's nice to see you too Luna. So what are you doing now? You've graduated, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes. I'm writing for my father's magazine." She pulled a wrinkled magazine out of her pocket and tossed it at him. It was already open to a page. The headline read: _SMACKY-PUFF INFESTATION IN MINISTRY OF MAGIC OFFICE _(_and Why They Should've Worn Hats_). "My first article," she said, grinning. Harry wasn't even about to ask what a Smacky-Puff was and congratulated her.

The last to approach him was Ginny. She strolled up to the side of his bed, nervousness in her eyes. For a while, she stood there and then turned to Neville and Luna, who were gazing at them with interest. Ginny cleared her throat pointedly, and Neville dragged a still staring Luna out of the room.

Ginny sat at the edge of Harry's bed and took his hand, "How've you been doing Harry?"

Harry bit his lip, "Fine, thank you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You must be tired of everybody asking that," Ginny replied apologetically.

Harry responded, "Yeah, I am." Deciding to change the subject, he said, "You've changed quite a bit since I last saw you. You look…" he gulped, "beautiful."

Ginny couldn't help but smile, and thanked him. An awkward silence filled the void their conversation left. Harry couldn't help but stare a Ginny; it had been so long, and he had missed her. The silence seemed to press against him, and he said lamely, "I missed you."

Ginny let go of his hand and stood up, "I missed you to Harry. Do you know how hard it was for me?" Harry wished that he could put his arms around her and comfort her, but he could tell she had more to say. Ginny turned away from him, "Harry, I waited for you as long as I could, but I was back at Hogwarts and I didn't know when you would be back, if you would be back at all…"

Harry knew that she had moved on, and said painfully, "Ginny, don't say anything else. I understand."

She walked over to Harry. Putting her hand affectionately on his head, she kissed him on the forehead, "I'll always love you Harry." Then, she walked out of the room, tears brimming in her eyes.

Harry watched her go sullenly. He had known this would happen, and he didn't blame her. They had become two different people in their two years apart, but it still hurt when he had realized the inevitable. As the door thudded behind Ginny, he sat in his bed, feeling alone. It felt so strange that just two days ago he had been preparing for his final battle with Voldemort.

He remembered it so clearly. Hermione, Ron, and he had been camping under a tree in a forest. At the time, he hadn't realized that he was so close to the Hogwarts grounds. They were all so physically and emotionally tired, they could hardly stay awake. They were taking shifts to keep watch for the Death Eaters so that the others could sleep. It was Ron's turn when they came.

Harry was awake when he heard the footsteps. His sleep coated eyes snapped open. Ron shook Hermione as Harry stood alertly, wand held at the ready. Soon, Hermione joined him, facing the sound of the Death Eaters approaching. Harry turned to the others and whispered, "You know what to do. On the count of three."

They nodded and he watched and listened attentively for signs that they were close. The tension in the air was thick, and it seemed like he couldn't breathe softly enough. Harry's muscles tensed as they drew closer, only a couple of rows of trees were separating them and their hunters. Just a little farther. Harry saw the edge of the first Death Eaters cloak and hissed, "Three."

Three red jets of light shot from Harry, Hermione, and Ron's wands as they dove behind trees. They heard the thuds as two separate Death Eaters were hit with their stunning rays. Now, even more dangerous curses flew back at them, and even the trees around them seemed to recoil. Dodging the green jets of light, Harry threw curses back at them, bowling them over. "Sectumsempra!" he shouted and the nearest Death Eater's blood spattered over him.

Hermione got hit with a curse on her shoulder, and got thrown back against a tree. She fell to the ground, still brandishing her wand. Harry was about to run over when Ron jumped in front of her, hurling a curse at the Death Eater that had hit her. She fell over, and Ron bent tentatively down to check Hermione. She stood up with his help and surveyed the bloody woodlands before her.

The ground was littered with the bodies of Death Eaters, their robes smattered with dirt and blood from the fight. Some of them were dead, most of them stunned. Harry walked over to Hermione and Ron; cleaning the blood of his enemies off his glasses, he let Hermione lean on his shoulder. Together, they looked around at the destruction in front of them. That was when the tree they were leaning on burst into flames. Voldemort had arrived.


End file.
